


Street Life

by 1221bookworm



Series: TLC ShipWeeks 2018 [8]
Category: Lunar Chronicles - Marissa Meyer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-22
Updated: 2018-01-22
Packaged: 2019-03-07 23:40:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13445868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1221bookworm/pseuds/1221bookworm
Summary: AU: Master Jael runs a pack of street boys, but one of them dreams of a brighter future. One that's off the street. But he can't figure out how to make it happen until he starts working for the lady who runs the bakery.





	Street Life

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I wrote an AU! This has always been on my writing bucket list – but I’ll admit it was an intimidating proposition! I’m really pleased with the overall idea of this story – but I have to apologize in advance for the quick editing job. I really wanted to get this done, but spending an hour waiting for a tow truck when the transmission in my mom’s car died sort of derails writing plans … I rushed a bit because I wanted to get this posted in time to participate in the first Wolflet theme of TLC ShipWeeks 2018: Nightfall
> 
> A/N 2: I don’t own the Lunar Chronicles, or any other stories that I may or may not have used for inspiration.
> 
> A/N 3: I know in Stars Above, Wolf refers to himself as "Z". For the sake of this story, I went with "Zee". Still comes out with the same sound when pronounced, but looks a little better in the Universe of this story.

“Five. Four. Three. Two. One.” The lock on the door clicked into place as the second hand reached the top of the clock. The curtains were drawn and the sign flipped to “Closed” before it had gone a quarter of the way around again.  
Zee turned around and smiled into the emptiness. Of course he liked to see the little pastry shop busy – no customers meant no livelihood – but his soul yearned for the peace and quiet of having the shop to himself. But not entirely alone.  
Scarlet pushed the curtain aside, briefly revealing the long tables of rising dough, and ovens browned with use. “All set, then?” She was wiping her hands on her apron, her hair curling its way out from under her cap with the heat.  
He nodded his reply, already moving to grab the broom and begin the nightly routine of cleaning and preparing the shop for the next morning. Scarlet was already wiping the counter down with a rag, humming to herself in time with her long, sweeping strokes.   
Zee watched her out of the corner of his eye, his face turned dutifully toward his task. If he was honest with himself, this was what he loved most about closing the shop, the easy companionship, the comfort born of many evenings sharing this routine.  
The ‘cha-ching’ of the cash register opening meant Scarlet had finished the counters and would begin to prepare the cash and receipts to enter into her ledger book tomorrow. Zee gave himself a shake. He had to strike the right balance between accomplishing his chores at the same time his boss finished her work without appearing to dawdle his way through them.  
Scarlet smiled at him as he moved to put the broom away. He returned it with a shy one of his own as he started to wipe down the display racks which had already been emptied of all the rolls and pastries that usually filled the shelves.  
“Good day today,” she told him as she wrapped a paper band around the money. A large envelope was produced, and a few lines scribbled on the front provided the bank directions. The money disappeared inside, and Scarlet set the sealing wax to melt.  
Zee was done with the cases now, but Scarlet’s routine was nearly over, too. Zee rinsed the rag while Scarlet checked on the bread rising for tomorrow. Satisfied, she grabbed her hat and coat, the large pin keeping her hat in place, while the coat hid most of the apron.   
She went back to the counter, pouring a drop of wax onto the envelope and pressing in her seal. “I’m all set, what about you, Zee?” She waved the envelope as she spoke, rushing her seal to dry as if finally impatient to be leaving.  
“I’m ready.” His coat was on, his cap slammed haphazardly over his unruly hair.  
“Perfect.” The envelope was tucked inside her handbag before she reached to turn down the oil on the lamps. Zee followed her out, waiting patiently while she slid the key in, finding comfort in the satisfying click of the lock engaging.  
Scarlet turned her face to the moon, soaking in it’s light as she pulled on her gloves. Zee slammed his mouth shut when she turned to look at him. “Where are your gloves, Zee?”  
He glanced down and shoved his hands deeper into his pockets. “Left them home,” he muttered to the pavement.  
She shook her head at him ruefully. “Bring them tomorrow, hmm? It’s too cold not to have any.”  
Zee nodded in agreement. That’s exactly why he’d given his gloves to Ran yesterday. But there was no reason for Scarlet to know that.  
With a quick turn, Scarlet strode off in the direction of the bank. Zee hurried to catch up with her swishing skirts, the heels on her boots marking her distinctive, purposeful stride. Most of the people they passed avoided eye contact with her. While they might choose to purchase their pastries from her shop, they were critical of a woman owning her own business.  
She didn’t comment on his presence at her side. By now, she believed him that he took these roads home anyway. Instead, she commented on the progress of the building projects they passed, or mocked the newspaper headings. Another topic that brought her strange looks from her customers.  
“Here we are.” She interrupted her declaration of support for women to have the vote to drop her envelope into the box, the flap dropping shut after her deposit.  
“I can’t close the shop to march, but I will be handing out free muffins to the marchers.” She finished her statement with a definitive nod as they started back out. Her apartments were only a few blocks further, and even with the money safely deposited and off her person, he only found comfort when he knew she was securely in her own rooms.  
He longed to slow his steps as the building loomed closer. He wanted to stretch out the moment, watching the moonlight play on her hair, her cheeks bright from the brisk walk in the night air. This was what peace felt like.  
He soaked up her presence when she stopped on her doorstep, turning to finish her biography of activists before he left. He carefully stored the knowledge away to impress her later with his memory.  
Finally, she said goodnight, her body giving in to exhaustion as she yawned. She gave him a last smile through the closing gap in the door. Zee waited for the lock to be activated from the inside before he turned and sprinted off in a ground eating jog. Back past the bank, past the shop, and several blocks up before he turned into an alleyway. Here he stopped to catch his breath, taking huge gulps of air, and waiting for his heartbeat to slow. When he was in control of himself, he trotted down the alley, following it’s twists and turns further and further from the lamplit streets of proper civilization.   
The smell of too many bodies in too tight a space reached him even as he rounded the final corner.  
Rotten tomatoes. He silently cursed. Jael was already here, counting the coins turned in by the ragtag collection of street boys surrounding him. That meant Zee was late, and Jael would expect a larger haul.  
Zee slipped in behind Wynn, hoping maybe Jael hadn’t seen him come in, and he would be spared the punishment. He blew on his hands to warm them, glancing around to judge the success or failure of his pack mates in their faces; the nearly confident grins, or panicked faces, cold sweat already dripping down their necks.  
His eyes found Ran across the room, a smug expression on his face. Zee almost dismissed it until he saw that Ran’s hands were bare, the gloves Zee had given him just last night already gone.  
Zee inched his way around the room, one eye on Jael’s progress, the other fixing his brother with a cold stare.  
“What happened to you gloves?” He hissed the words into Ran’s ear, careful not to draw attention.  
He took satisfaction in the way Ran started, even if he did try to hide it with a stretch.  
“Oh, they’re gone.” The complete and utter carelessness of his statement was enough to make Zee’s blood boil, but Ran was spared his rage as Jael approached.   
“And finally, our Wolf.” Zee clenched his teeth against the street name he had adopted during his first weeks on the streets. “You must have a grand catch today, you were back so late, I nearly despaired of ever seeing you again.”  
Zee wasn’t fooled by the false concern, uttered with enough sweetness to kill a bear. Jael would only care about his lost profits, but would forget the boy himself in a heartbeat.  
He turned his ‘haul’ over to Jael. It was really his tip money, combined with just enough of his weekly pay to keep Jael happy. Jael would murder him if he ever found the secret stash Zee kept, hoarded as insurance against the bad days, with hopes it would one day grow enough so Zee could leave the streets for good, and take his brother with him.  
But Jael was speaking, slamming Zee back into the here and now. “I would have thought you’d bring more. You’ve been late every night this week. I’ve been very patient waiting for a major haul.”  
Zee was taken by surprise. He cursed himself for a fool. Jael noticed everything, and Zee had been too careless.  
But two could play that game. “I’ve been casing a house every night. But the family won’t be away till next week, so I can’t do a thing till they leave.” He made his accent as thick as he could, hoping his wide-eyed fear would convince Jael he wasn’t lying.  
He wasn’t expecting Jael’s knee to connect with his groin, or the fist in his stomach.  
The breath knocked out of him, he doubled over in pain. Jael leaned closer to speak into his ear. “There had better be a good haul next week. Money and jewelry. You understand, my little Wolf puppy?”  
Zee nodded, keeping his head turned to the ground. While it made Jael feel like he’d won, it protected the few remaining shreds of dignity Zee had left.  
“Good.” Jael straightened, and raised his voice to address the others. “We’re a housebroken pack, aren’t we? No one keeps anything from Master Jael. Not money,” he punctuated this with a punch into Zee’s gut just as he’d started to straighten, “Not secrets.” Zee was too hunched over to catch another punch, and Jael would never risk drawing attention by giving any of his boys a black eye or a bruised cheek. Denied any opening, he placed both hands on Zee’s shoulders and pushed him onto his backside. Normally, Jael wouldn’t have the strength, but Zee’s injuries coupled with the hopelessness growing in his chest at the task Jael had set him, left him an easy target for Jael’s cruelty.   
Jael swept out, and the boys dispersed, a few of them casting Zee sympathetic looks, but none so bold as to help him. Ran didn’t even look, instead recounting some tale, mostly likely over exaggerated, claiming some glory for himself that would not otherwise be his.   
Zee looked away, in too much pain to consider confronting Ran again about the gloves. He tried so hard to protect his brother from the elements, both the weather and the seedier parts of the city. But Ran was always throwing it back in his face.   
That was the least of his problems as he threw himself down in the nook he had claimed for himself. First was to make sure Jael hadn’t broken any of his ribs. Satisfied he was still in one piece, he wrapped his threadbare blanket around himself and peaked out the crack in the mortar, just large enough to see a sliver of sky. It was filled by the moon, throwing a long shadow from the doorstep in front of his peephole.  
Zee squeezed his eyes shut, blocking out the moon’s glow, only to find it replaced by another moon, this one highlighting the bushy red hair and rosy cheeks of his manager at the pastry shop.  
His eyes snapped open. Scarlet. He desperately wanted to keep his position with her. But how could he also obtain jewels to satisfy Jael? Even if he had any desire to steal from her, she didn’t have anything that would satisfy Jael’s greed. And the only stash of money she held was stored in the cash register. There was little to stop him from clearing it out, but he couldn’t stand the look of betrayal on her face when she found out.  
He rolled over, trying to block out the moon and the thoughts running through his head.  
Maybe he could run away. He had stayed for Ran’s sake, but the incident with the gloves today proved Ran no longer cared for Zee’s assistance.  
Rolling onto his back, he addressed his plans to the ceiling. Tomorrow he would clear out his small stash of belongings and throw himself on Scarlet’s mercy, begging her to take him in.   
He bit his lip at the absurdity of the plan. They’d barely known each other a month. She’d probably think him crazy.   
There was, however, nothing stopping him from taking out rooms in the same building as hers. His job would cover the costs, and he wasn’t above giving Scarlet big sad eyes whenever he wanted to taste one of the pastries.  
Would Jael come after him? Probably not, as it was easier to break in a new boy than chase after an old one. He’d probably change their hide out in case Zee went to the constable, but that would ensure Zee a safer future.  
Would Jael take his rage out on Ran? That was a distinct possibility, one that almost made him abandon the whole mad scheme. But Ran wouldn’t appreciate the sacrifice. It might be hard on him for a while, but Jael would never maim him, if only to ensure he continued to pour money into Jael’s coffers. And the others would help him, sharing their food or blankets. Ran would be okay. Or, as okay as a boy living on the streets could be.  
He turned his face to the moon again, already dipping behind the nearest buildings. Now it’s light brought him comfort, a guiding light leading to a better future. By the time it was completely hidden, and true night had fallen, steeping his cranny with darkness, Zee was asleep, his face more peaceful than it had been in years, his heart lighter than he could ever remember it being.


End file.
